


Heat and Dark

by wonder_boy



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Autism, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Hallucinations, Headcanon, Hurt/Comfort, Malcolm Bright Needs a Hug, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, meltdowns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:47:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22826623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wonder_boy/pseuds/wonder_boy
Summary: A small voice in the back of his mind convinced him that he would never come to terms with who he was, that he would never truly belong in this space. The walls went back up. He was beginning to feel trapped in his own skin. His body immediately went on autopilot. He needed to get away from his father but how can you run from someone that’s inside your head?
Relationships: Gil Arroyo & Malcolm Bright, Malcolm Bright & Dani Powell, Malcolm Bright & JT Tarmel
Comments: 14
Kudos: 115





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello to those who have clicked! Before you read I must address something: I am not autistic. I wrote this from a headcanon in the fandom that I have taken a liking to and put it into a story. The last thing I want to do is offend anyone who may be on the spectrum or know someone who is. If I have, please let me know. This is based off real accounts of people who have autism and I wanted to make this as accurate as possible. I am no expert! This takes place after 1x14. With that being said, I hope you can enjoy my first contribution to the fandom.

Growing up, Malcolm always knew that he was different from other kids. From the way that he talked to the way that he processed the world around him, he wasn’t blind to the fact that he was just different. 

His father had been the first person to catch on to it while his mother was usually preoccupied with Ainsley. Martin watched as his son would absorb the myriad of information he taught him and reiterate it back without skipping a beat. No detail was too small and Martin decided to use this as an added advantage in grooming his son. He knew his son had trouble making friends at school so his father was always someone he could confide in whenever he was home from work. They would talk for hours on end about the human anatomy, his father answering every single question that came to mind.

It wasn’t long before his mother had caught on to Malcolm’s habits and mannerisms. When they have kids, mothers are told to establish a firm routine, a schedule that keeps the child on track throughout the day to create trust and avoid any surprises. 

So, it didn’t bother Jessica when Malcolm insisted on leaving the house at a certain time or designated specific hours for his homework or only wore specific outfits from his closet. Sometimes he would rock himself absentmindedly at the table or take one of his father’s pens and steadily click the bottom until he was told to stop. Large crowds made shopping with his mother a nightmare so at some point he would flat-out refuse to leave the house. 

He kept to himself for the most part and Jessica just assumed that it was in his nature, that not all children were as outgoing and talkative as Ainsley was. She didn’t think it was a cause for concern. Though when it came up, the conversation between her and Martin was kept short with unspoken words about their son. 

It wasn’t until she got a call from school that Malcolm had thrown (what they perceived was) a tantrum in class and by proxy hit one of the other students. She was at a loss for words when she came up to the school because this was unlike her son, there had to have been some misunderstanding. Sure enough, when she walked into the principal’s office, Malcolm was sitting in the corner of the room steadily rocking himself with his hands over his ears and his eyes shut tight. 

They never figured out why it happened and Malcolm never spoke about it. 

Martin said it was excessive but Jessica was bent on finding a specialist who could explain why their soft-spoken son would suddenly attack another child. This extended to several sessions, phone calls, and meetings with the teachers to make sure they kept an eye on him. In the days following the incident, Jessica started to notice a pattern in her son. 

He would hide when visitors were over, he stole one of Ainsley’s tangles and plays with it for hours, he would wave his hands whenever he got excited, and he would wring them together when he was anxious or agitated. When she started to compare her son to the other kids in their circle, she realized just how different he was. It was something bigger than she could ever understand. She made an appointment the next day.

He was seven when he was diagnosed. At the time of the diagnosis, it was currently known as Asperger’s disorder, a condition under the umbrella of pervasive developmental disorders. Jessica and Martin initially believed it meant that their son had developmental challenges outside of the fact that he was fine and acted his age around other kids. The lack of concrete information and available resources made Jessica concerned for her son’s future and what image their family was putting out for the world. 

Seeing his mother’s distress made Malcolm shut down for a period, keeping to himself in his room so he could stim without anyone feeling embarrassed by it. When they were forced to make appearances, Malcolm tried to mask his emotions even though his mother could see just how overwhelmed he was. She wasn’t perfect, but she did her best to try to adjust for Malcolm whenever the situation called for it; Martin followed suit (albeit for his own personal gain).

He and his mother grew apart after the arrest. Malcolm believed that because he and his father were so close, she only saw him as an extension of him, the man who was a convicted serial killer. As he got older, Malcolm made an extended effort to mask this part of himself. It was bad enough being known as the Surgeon’s son – the last thing he needed was to be further ostracized.

It proved useful when he worked for Quantico, though some of the more extreme cases required extra after-care and longer cool-down periods. It wasn’t easy getting in with his diagnosis but he put in the extra work outside of school to earn the trust of the higher ups. Studying human psychology made socializing easier because he typically knew what to expect and how to respond without keeping a conversation too long. Social cues are hard to pick up on so he was always adding to his repertoire of human interaction.

At some point during his time in D.C., the term Asperger’s was no longer a separate entity in the DSM; it was simply classified as Autism. He knew the ins and outs of his diagnosis by then so the name change only reassured his own feelings about his identity. Though he grew up feeling ashamed and guilty for making his mother worry so much, as more research was put out into the world, eventually he understood that different doesn’t necessarily have to be negative. This didn’t occur to him until he was in college in a new environment surrounded by all walks of life. Harvard and D.C. were life-changing experiences and for once, Malcolm didn’t feel so alone in the world.

During his time at Quantico, he spent his personal time with Dr. Le Deux working on himself so that one day he could finally look in the mirror and see a version of himself that he could truly accept. It was when he was fired and moved back to New York that old demons started to resurface and his hallucinations became more frequent and more vivid than ever. The night terrors increased tenfold making him spend a good portion of his mornings self-soothing before showing up to work. This new environment that was the NYPD was a difficult change at first but working with Gil made the adjustment a little more bearable. Socializing with unfamiliar faces was a battle he didn’t feel like fighting most days. 

A small voice in the back of his mind convinced him that he would never come to terms with who he was, that he would never truly belong in this space. The walls went back up. Malcolm continued to mask himself so he could pass as neurotypical without any suspicion from his new coworkers. He was beginning to feel trapped in his own skin.

No one on the team knew of his diagnosis expect for Gil. If he saw that Malcolm was working himself up over a case, he would discreetly pull him aside and ask if he needed a break. The answer was usually ‘no’ but there were a couple of close calls that led to Malcolm sitting in Gil’s office alone to re-group before continuing with their case. He knows that Malcolm is a grown man who can take care of himself but he can’t stand the feeling of not being able to erase all of that hurt and pain from him. He wasn’t some shy, helpless kid who needed their hand held after every hallucination or night terror; he has the same right as everyone else to live a life unbiased by social norms. It wasn’t impossible – he just had to work a little harder at it.

During one particular case, Malcolm was having a hard time concentrating when his profile continuously failed to align with the actions of their suspect. Mindlessly clicking away with his pen kept him focused for the most part but something about this killer unnerved him. He had an affinity for kidnapping and killing young children in unrelated locations over the course of three weeks.

They were much harder to track down than the team anticipated and he started to feel like a burden for not cracking the case sooner. One night, Dani reassured him that it wasn’t his fault for the growing death toll but he couldn’t help but feel responsible for not being able to stop the killings sooner. He’s spent his entire career trying to make up for those twenty three he couldn’t save and he wasn’t going to quit now. 

The body count rose from five to eight in the span of a week before the team narrowed down their suspect field to four men. They cornered one in an abandoned warehouse with Gil and JT leading the pursuit with Malcolm and Dani covering their six. The arrest was swift which meant nobody got hurt in the process and their suspect was taken down to the precinct for interrogation. It was approaching midnight after a very long day of following leads and the team was exhausted. They were running on fumes and weren’t too keen on provoking psychopaths after hours.

“Why did you do it?”

Malcolm was clenching his stress ball in his right hand pacing outside of the interrogation room with Dani looking on. Gil and JT were questioning their suspect on the other side of the glass. 

“Why does anyone do anything?” chimed their suspect. Child murderers were the bottom of the barrel – nothing aggravated Gil more than the loss of life of an innocent child. There wasn’t a clear motive other than the fact of deriving pleasure from witnessing the loss of a potential life that was cut short. The man was a monster and they were going to make sure that he never graces the light of day ever again. “If you’re trying to reason with me, detective, let me be the first to say that you won’t get the answers you think you want.” 

“He’s bluffing.” Malcolm comments from behind the glass. “You think so?” “These murders weren’t in cold blood, Dani. Every death, every scar, every wound was calculated and specific to the body. Each were drugged but disposed of differently. He took his time with them. There has to be a reason for it; he knows something and he’s not telling us.”

“On the contrary, Malcolm, there doesn’t have to be a reason for everything.” Malcolm stopped dead in his tracks to acknowledge the figure watching from the corner of the room. “The reason doesn’t matter, my boy. Eight people are dead. If you get this wrong, that would mean your killer is still out there.” 

He moved closer to Dani to try and focus on the case. He was aware that his pacing was distracting and he was not about to take pointers from the man who admitted to wanting to kill his own son just days ago. He could feel himself getting anxious so he put his ball in his pocket and started to wring his hands in effort to shake some of the nervous energy.

“Please, humor me. Eight lives have already been taken, I’m sure we’ve got time, right, JT?” Gil stalks the table with JT who hadn't moved from the suspect with his arms folded and a deathly stare. “I’ve got plenty of time. He’s getting booked either way so why not make the most of it?”

They’re met with a boisterous laugh that catches the whole team off guard. He wasn’t going to talk. They were in way over their heads. “I didn’t kill those kids. And even if I did, you couldn’t possibly understand. To have that kind of power to skew their reality, to have someone’s entire life in your hands? If you push the right buttons, anyone could get drunk off of that.” 

Dani and Malcolm shared an uneasy look. “I’m afraid he has a point there. Anyone is capable of murder. You of all people should know that.” Martin seemed to enjoy watching his son squirm at the sight of their suspect. Malcolm couldn’t stand still after that.

He knew that his subconscious was trying to get under his skin after the incident at Claremont but the hallucinations are stronger than what he’s used to. His feelings towards his father had changed. To hear those words from him put a knife in Malcolm, killing any hope that his father was different from the act he put on.

Up until this point, Malcolm believed that despite his father’s influence, he was not capable of murder. He was coerced into stabbing his father – it wasn’t a conscious decision. Malcolm wasn’t a killer, he couldn’t be. Martin knew what button to push and ultimately got what he wanted. There was no way he would ever leave his son’s psyche after that. Malcolm was left with a daunting realization: after all of the work he put into becoming his own person, at the end of the day, he was never in control of his life to begin with.

He couldn’t ignore him any longer. A meltdown was coming if he didn’t get out now and find a space to clear his head. The last thing he needed was to lose his composure in front of everybody – especially Dani.

He knew his emotions towards this case were entirely too personal and having his father here overwhelmed him immensely to a breaking point. Malcolm vaguely registered the weight building in his chest that spurred panic. His breathing was shallow and sounds started to blur together. His hands were in fists to stop the trembling as he looked for an exit. “Don’t do it, Malcolm. What would they think if they figured out what you really are?”

The suspect spoke up again.

“And there’s no one easier to manipulate than a child. They’ll believe anything you tell them. Lying is easy. You just have to follow through with it.” 

Martin stood directly behind Malcolm with the biggest smile and leaned down into his ear.

“And to think I ever loved you.”

That seemed to set him off.

His body immediately went on autopilot. He needed to get away from his father but how can you run from someone that’s inside your head?

He pressed his hands to his ears and crouched down on the floor muttering ‘no’ repeatedly. “Bright?” Dani kneeled down to his level to see what was going on. She’s helped Malcolm down from a panic attack a couple of times but something in her gut told her something else was entirely wrong.

“Hey,” she called to him softly, trying to get his attention. “Talk to me. What’s going on?” Her first mistake was to try and hold him because he immediately rejected the advance and started to yell something unintelligible. Dani backed away in shock before running to get Gil. She banged on the door of the interrogation room until he swung the door open. He was irritated beyond compare.

“What, Powell? Can’t you see we’re in the –” 

“Something’s wrong with Malcolm and I don’t know what to do.” She was panicked and that’s all the confirmation Gil needed to rush into the other room, leaving JT with the suspect. “Keep him in cuffs, I’ll be right back.”

The first thing Gil saw was Malcolm in a corner trying to rock himself with his hand beating on his chest but he was overcome with so many negative emotions all at once. He had suppressed several meltdowns over time and it felt like the dam had finally broke. Sometimes he would shut down for hours on end but this was different; this was a combination of an emotional and empathetic overload of sorts. He couldn’t hold the energy in any longer. His hands moved from his ears to his hair, grabbing at anything at this point.

He switched between pure frustration and complete devastation. Malcolm was screaming and sobbing as loud as his lungs would let him, absolutely distraught with emotion. He had no control over his body or reactions and everything he kept bottled up inside spilt all over the room. Haunting images flooded his psyche with a maniacal laugh ringing in his ears from the other corner.

Dani watched with horror. This wasn’t the Bright that she knew – no – this was someone else, this was not like him. Nothing prepared her for this, there was no training for these kinds of situations. She was stunned to silence and didn’t even notice JT standing behind her.

Everything felt wrong. He was nothing like the Surgeon. He was a good person. He was not his father. They were never the same. He is no killer. He was not a monster. He was nothing like the Surgeon. He was a good person. He was not his father. They were never the sa – 

“Hey, kid.” 

A soft voice broke through the internal commotion. Gil was kneeling down a few feet away from Malcolm making sure that he had enough space to breathe. Gil had witnessed a couple of Malcolm’s meltdowns in the past when he was younger but this was as bad as it’s ever been. Still, he approached them with the same patience and understanding. His sole focus was Malcolm. “Breathe, Malcolm, breathe. You’re okay. You’re safe. Just let it pass.”

He started to pull at his hair unable to communicate the weight of what he was feeling. His sobs turned into short, panicked gasps when a new wave of anxiety hits him, the kind of dread that sits in your stomach. His father was still in the room looming over him, watching with a Cheshire grin. His eyes darted back and forth between the floor to Martin and Gil catches onto this. “What are you seeing, kid?”

He makes a break for the door. “Let him go,” Gil calls to JT. He lets Bright out while following close behind and lets him pace until he could give him some direction. “Is it okay for me to touch you? Is that okay?” No response answers the question for him. The team instinctively creates a sort of barrier around Malcolm to try and keep the situation contained without drawing any more attention to him.

They follow him towards the main hallway that leads into the hub of several cops all engaging in different conversations at once. Malcolm’s distinctively aware of the rise in sensory volume and whines, breathing heavier as another wave of anxiety hits him full force. His hands are covering his ears again to block it out and Gil picks this as a sign to get him to a quieter space. He steps out in front of Malcolm with his hands out in front of him as if to stop him.

“I’m going to stop you for a second. Let’s go into my office where it’s safe. Is that okay?”

There was a slight nod from Malcolm after he stopped moving for a moment. He was responding to direct prompts which was a good sign. Gil opened the doors to his office with Dani and JT watching from outside the door. Gil had turned off the lights making the room dark save for the lights bleeding in from the closed blinds in the precinct. Malcolm sat in his usual spot near Gil’s desk trying to get his breathing under control.

“It is okay for me to touch you?” he asks again. This time, Malcolm nods though he was kind of out of it by then. Gil gently pried his hands from his face and held them with sincerity to anchor him. “You’re doing so good, Malcolm. Nothing in here can hurt you. You’re safe now.” He looks at his unfocused gaze wanting to reassure him. 

“Hey,” Gil calls out to get his attention. 

They make eye contact. 

“You’re safe now.”

Fresh tears fall as he nods his head in acknowledgement while he tries to align his breathing with Gil’s. He was safe. It was just Dani, JT, and Gil in the room with him. His father was nowhere to be found. He was safe. 

After several minutes of focusing on the man in front of him, Malcolm is present and the first thing he reaches for is a tangle from one of Gil’s drawers. He rocks back and forth with the tangle in his hands to ground himself better, letting the wave of emotions dissipate into nothing. Dani and JT had walked into the room with the door shut behind them looking on.

While Malcolm was focused on himself, Gil knew the questions were coming. His partners have worked in the field long enough to know that this wasn’t your garden-variety panic attack. Bright’s mannerisms and behaviors have been written off as something quirky and unconventional by just about everyone but people who were close to him know there’s a reason for it. Dani nor JT knew the reasoning for it.

“Gil.” Dani is the first to speak up. He turns his attention towards her unprepared for an explanation. “What’s the status on our guy?” he asks instead. “Booked him for murder one. Had one of the lackeys do it. But that’s not what I’m focused on right now.” says JT looking in Malcolm’s direction. Gil sighs and gets up to face them, his voice in a hushed tone. “We can talk about this in the morning. Right now, we all need to get some sleep. I know you have questions and I can’t discuss them with you unless Bright gives me permission to do so.” 

“What if he doesn’t want to?”

Dani was on the defensive, feeling like something has been kept from the team. She knows Bright doesn’t owe her any answers but there’s a nagging feeling in her gut that she can’t shake when she sees him like this. “Bright will do it on his own time, Dani. I know you two are protective of him and I appreciate that. But some things are better left unsaid.” Gil turns his attention back on Malcolm who has made his way into a corner, slowly drifting off.

“I’ll take him home, you two go ahead.” That left no room for arguing so Dani and JT turned to leave the room. Gil follows until he’s halfway out the door. “Hey,” he calls after them. “He’s going to be fine. I don’t want you two losing sleep over this, alright? I’ll see you in the morning.” 

“Goodnight, Gil.” “Drive safe.” 

With that, Dani and JT leave the precinct for the night. Gil turns to face Malcolm and gently taps his shoulder. “Hey, kid. It’s time to go home.” He stirs with a small groan then slowly opens his eyes to look at Gil. “You okay?” He nods, shifting to a seated position. “I’m okay.” He smiles at that, relieved that it had come to pass. Meltdowns usually took a lot out of him so hopefully this would mean that Malcolm could get some actual sleep without interruption.

“Come on. Let’s get you home.” Gil helped Malcolm up to his feet, keeping him steady by his side. He grabbed their things from his desk and started for the door. 

“Gil?” he called quietly form the side. “Yes, Bright?” 

“Thank you.”

Gil looked down at the profiler in awe, happy that Malcolm was alert and responsive. He would do anything for Malcolm. He’s spent so many nights pushing through the night terrors and meltdowns but he would do it all over again in a heartbeat. 

“I’m proud of you, Bright. You did good.” He gently places his hand on the back of his neck and walks him out into the cold Manhattan night.

When Gil had explained what had happened in the car, Malcolm knew that there were a million unanswered questions he’d have to face. He didn’t feel comfortable at the moment, but he knows that Dani and JT were understanding enough to let him take his time. For once, he didn’t feel embarrassed or ashamed for his actions. He was surrounded by people who loved him without judgement and accepted his flaws on his worst days. Gil has created a safe space so he could truly be himself without having told mask an important part of him. 

This was not a burden to carry. This is who he was. For the first time in years, Malcolm could finally breathe.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back with a second chapter! I thought why not add the aftermath? This takes place after 1x15. I didn't anticipate how long it was going to be but here we are. Also, I'm not going to mention how long this has been sitting in my drafts. Thank you for clicking!

It’s been a week since the incident at the precinct and Malcolm has been avoiding it like the plague.

Though no one has brought it up, he can practically _feel_ the weight of their stares and Malcolm thinks he might actually suffocate. He’s been extremely self-aware ever since, forcing himself to act in patterns that wouldn’t draw any unnecessary attention to himself.

It feels like torture.

He’s excused himself in the middle of a couple of briefings now to decompress in Gil’s office but towards the end of the week, he can’t sit still. Dani’s been watching over him like a hawk the second he came back into work. Every time he leaves the room, she and JT shoot Gil a hard look. “On his own time,” he carefully reminds them as he watches Malcolm go with worry.

Malcolm knows the team is perceptive. The clicking of his pen is more apparent now and he can’t shake his leg without JT telling him to stop. He does momentarily, but he’s at it again a few minutes later.

Every twitch, every fidget, every time he separates himself from the team, he feels like he’s being looked at under a microscope, making it harder to simply be.

He desperately wishes things could go back to the way they were. Back to a life where they didn’t know he was different, without them making him _feel_ different.

He’s still learning to accept who he is. The problem is, he kept it a secret for a reason. Something that wasn’t meant to get out, a secret that he protected because he knew he didn’t belong at the NYPD.

Malcolm doesn’t want them to know. He’s made it this far without any issues, he’s put in the work to earn their trust and respect and the absolute last thing he wants to do is throw that all away.

And still, a part of him knows that it isn’t realistic to hide forever. This was bound to happen one way or another and he knows better than anyone else that ignoring your problems won’t just make them go away. He needs to face this.

It wasn’t fair to keep them in the dark.

At the end of the week, the sun is setting on another long day. The team’s looking over a new case in the conference room, talking among themselves about potential suspects and possible motives. Malcolm isn’t really listening to their banter. His mind is elsewhere, distracted by the inevitable.

He told himself that today was going to be the day he tells them the truth. He’s been thinking about it all day and still, he couldn’t work the nerve to give it to them straight. Gil knew something was up when he wasn’t all that interested with profiling the body they found earlier and he hasn’t spoken much since they left the crime scene.

While JT and Dani were discussing witnesses and possible suspects, Gil glances over to Malcolm absentmindedly fidgeting in his chair.

His anxiety is through the roof but he’s actively trying to hide it (or so he thinks). The pen isn’t really helping so he moves to wring his hands, taking slow breaths to avoid getting worked up.

What will they think? What are they going to say? I can’t tell them, he thinks, immediately backing out of it; they’ll think I’m weird. They’re going to judge me.

JT already finds him annoying, this would give him another reason to hate him. Dani would treat him like a charity case. Even after their talk in the morgue, he’s still doubtful about where they stood in their relationship. Were they truly friends?

He wouldn’t know how to feel if Dani rejected him. He expects it from JT but not her. Gil’s done everything in his power to make him feel comfortable at the precinct but if this goes south, it’ll be like D.C. all over again.

They wouldn’t want to be his friend. Instead, they’ll judge his every move, every fidget, and every flaw and make him feel less than able to do his job.

He’s spiraling – he knows it. Still, Malcolm can’t help the insecurities and the tiny voice in the back of his head telling him this isn’t a good idea. He’s probably better off abandoning the NYPD altogether.

A hand nudges Malcolm’s arm, abruptly pulling him out of his thoughts. “Bright? Your profile?” Gil immediately scoffs at JT, now on alert. “Why’d you have to do that? I told you to stop messing with him.” His face folds into a frown and crosses his arms across his chest. “What? Dude was spacing out. It’s not like I hit him.”

Even so, Malcolm can’t hide his immense discomfort. He immediately flinches at the contact with a small groan and gets up to lean his arm against the wall by the window. Flutters of JT’s hand flare up through his sleeve that touches his skin, sending a painful wave of pins and needles through his body. It _burns_.

The ache remains. Anger swells within him at the touch catching him off guard. It’s the only thing he can focus on, so he doesn’t hear the commentary coming from the other side of the room.

“Is he okay?” asks Dani perched on the table peering over JT’s shoulder. Gil sighs in frustration and moves away from the table, glaring in his direction. “I meant it when I told you to stop messing with him.” With the look that Gil gives him, JT sits back in his chair begrudgingly and takes the hint to shut up.

Gil stands in front of Malcolm close enough for small talk but far enough to not suffocate him. His voice is barely above a whisper but Malcolm hears him just fine.

“Are you okay?” His breathing is labored, still reeling from the contact. He rubs the heels of his palms together and faces the floor as his ears flare up when he realizes all eyes are on him.

This isn’t how he wanted it to go.

“I’m fine,” he mumbles offhandedly. He feels like he’s made a scene out of nothing despite the nagging itch in his body. Gil looks him over some more but he stops when senses the gears turning in his head. “Kid, talk to me,” Malcolm stubbornly meets his eyes, “do you need to take a break?”

He stays quiet as his initial embarrassment slowly fades into anger again. In any other circumstance, he would take the suggestion and make his way towards Gil’s office but he feels entirely exposed – caught doing something he shouldn’t have.

It makes him feel weak. Helpless. Way too vulnerable than he’s comfortable with. He feels embarrassed by Gil even though it’s an innocent question – it was just a touch, why did he react so strongly to it?

He catches a glimpse of JT and Dani watching from behind Gil’s shoulder and panic starts to settle in.

Gil sees Malcolm start to wring his hands more aggressively and breathe a little harder than he did moments ago. “I’m not doing this,” he huffs out. “Doing what, Bright?”

He steps away from the wall and walks over to the middle of the table in between JT and Dani. He keeps a firm hand over his trembling one and stands there, chest slightly heaving as his heartbeat picks up with anxiety.

He feels like he’s been backed into a corner with no chance of escaping, no chance of things returning to normal. Malcolm takes a small breather to shove his nerves down before he speaks.

“So, um,” he starts, voice a little higher than usual. Their expectant looks aren’t making this any easier. “I have something to tell you.”

Malcolm sneaks a glance at Gil behind him and he’s there, reading his nervous expression, but when it starts to click, he gives Malcolm a small nod of support. The gesture is big enough to wave some of the insecurities so he could get his thoughts in order before turning back to face them.

“There’s no proper way to say this so I’m just going to be upfront about it: I am autistic. It’s a developmental disability that affects sensory processing, communication, fine motor skills, cognition, and social interaction,” he says, clinical and detached.

He briefly pauses to wait for any comments but when there are none, he takes another shaky breath before continuing.

“It means that my fundamental understanding of the world is a lot different than yours. For example, I sometimes struggle to recognize nonverbal social cues. Some call it being insensitive or inappropriate but it isn’t some bad habit I can curb in a few weeks. I have a sensitivity to the senses around me – it’s like being fed too much information all at once. For instance,” Malcolm crosses over to Dani to reach for his pen.

“Take this pen. I might click it repetitively or I might fidget with my hands whenever there’s too much sensory input; it’s called stimming. That’s why I always dim the lights in the room and close the blinds if we’re working late to limit stimulus. I also have an aversion to touch – I absolutely hate it,” he turns to JT with a small forgiving smile, “that’s why I reacted the way I did. It’s not your fault, you didn’t know.”

“My bad,” JT mutters, and sits up in his chair. He ponders for a minute, trying to come up with a response. “What is it with the whole touch thing? Why is it different for Gil?”

“Short version: I’ve known him longer. I trust his touch, so I know not to panic. Plus, he usually makes it known.”

“So...” Dani’s been quiet up to this point, and Malcolm can see that she’s trying to think of a way to ask something.

“I’m an open book,” he tries to reassure her and JT that it was okay to ask him anything they have on their minds. He’s watching their reactions carefully as he waits for any physical sign of apathy or rejection. He doesn’t feel like he’s out of the woods just yet.

“Last week when we were in the room, I tried to hold your hand. Is what I did – is that the reason why...” She trails off, unsure of how to bring it up.

Malcolm frowns initially but as seconds go by, his face relaxes when he understands what she’s trying to say. He can see the guilt in her building. She’s kicking herself for it, probably thinking she’s the reason for what happened.

Then he realizes he hasn’t talked about it. Not even to Gil.

“That was an extreme case, it rarely ever happens.” He ducks his head out of habit. “It’s called a meltdown, an intense reaction to being extremely overwhelmed by the current situation. It was a combination of a lot of things: the case became too personal, I’ve been masking myself all week while trying to deal with a very persistent hallucination of my father – you weren’t the cause of it, Dani.”

She processes, trying to relax. She’s still a bit pensive but she takes his word for it. This is all new to her, so there’s no real reason to think that he isn’t telling her the truth.

He tenses up. Something’s on his mind and he’s trying to find the strength to say it. For a while he just stands there contemplating, unsure if it’s worth telling them this. Eventually he decides that he might as well give them some context to follow.

“My father knew there was something different about me before my diagnosis. He taught me everything there is to know about the human anatomy before the age of ten and I could reiterate his teachings verbatim.”

Malcolm starts fidgeting with his hands again, trying to stifle his growing anxiety. He hated Martin for a plethora of reasons; blatantly manipulating a child being high on his list.

“After his arrest, my interests developed into serial killers. It’s not some quirky obsession – it’s a fixation, an intense need to know and understand why killers are the way they are.”

“So you became a profiler,” Dani mentions, resting her arms on her thighs. He solemnly nods as he stops wringing his hands and balls up his fists at his side to keep still. “It’s already bad enough I can’t understand social normalcies. This, _this_ is something I can understand.”

The room is silent. The team can sense the change in his demeanor but they stay quiet. His expression hardens as he lingers in thought, hand trembling at his side, debating. Did he tell them too much? Are they even listening anymore? Do they even care? The thought alone irks him.

He’s tired. Tired of having to explain himself. Tired of having to pretend for the sake of everyone else because his existence makes them uncomfortable. He never asked for this life so why is he being punished for it?

“I’ve spent my entire life playing a role, acting as if I were this otherworldly person because who I am is not considered “normal”. It’s debilitating. I have to behave myself whenever I’m around other people because I’m afraid of slipping up, afraid that they will look at me as if there’s something _wrong_ with me–”

He regrets it the second it slips out.

He turns to the floor to avoid their prying eyes, squeezing his shut. Honesty was the point, but he let his insecurities slip by accident, and now he’s exposed himself more than he intended to. He made the mistake of tearing down too many walls at once.

“Kid,” Gil utters from behind him. He takes a step towards Malcolm to stand at his side, brows knitted in hurt. “There’s absolutely _nothing_ wrong with you.”

He wilts. Malcolm faces Gil with a small sideways smile. “I know. But it’s hard not to think something is wrong with you when you aren’t like everyone else.”

The room’s quiet. Dani stares at her hands in her lap, JT looking off to the side, and Gil is next to him, resting his hand on the back of his neck. Malcolm’s eyes are downcast. He’s chewing his bottom lip, flexing his right hand to stifle his tremor while his left is clenched in a tight fist.

The collar of his shirt is starting to choke him the longer he stands there. Somehow the temperature in the room has gone up, and the sounds from the air duct above are too loud to ignore.

He rubs his palms against his pants feeling for the soft hum on his skin. He’s still holding himself back, even after everything that’s been said – he feels like he’s intruding, leaving a mess too big for the team to deal with.

He swallows, feeling the heat creep up from his neck to his ears. “Sorry.”

Malcolm eyes the door, rubbing his hands faster.

“It’s okay, man,” pipes JT, pulling him from his thoughts. He looks at him defensively, slightly frowning. “I’m serious, Bright. You don’t need to apologize for that. What you just said was real, so who am I to judge?”

His frown deepens and his eyes narrow, turning into confusion. Last time he checked, JT isn’t the biggest fan of his quips – he could’ve sworn he found him rather annoying.

JT shrugs and crosses his arms. “Look, if this is who you are, then it is what it is. You shouldn’t have to apologize for something you can’t control – it’s a part of you.”

Malcolm’s not getting it. “I thought you didn’t like me.” It’s not a challenge or a jab, it’s genuinely how he feels. The things JT is saying isn’t making sense to him.

He groans, rubbing his face with his hand, searching for the right words to say. Malcolm attentively waits with his hands clasped together. “I’ll admit, it took me a minute to warm up to you being a part of the team. There’s history here and there’s a lot I don’t know about you,” JT keeps his expression neutral, talking to him in a way he’ll understand.

“But I don’t hate you, Bright. You’re an erratic kind of guy, but that’s not a bad thing. You’re a good fit here, so there’s no need to pretend to be something you’re not. This is a lot for you, and it feels good to know that you trust us with this information.”

Being vulnerable isn’t JT’s strongest suit, so when he looks at Bright, watching the wheels turn in his head, he hopes that the message got through to him. Gil watches Malcolm rub his thumb over the palm of his hand as he thinks it through. He may be quiet, but Gil knows from experience that it’s normal; his brain just needs more time to process.

Eventually, the frown disappears from his face.

He nods at JT with a quiet, “Okay.”

He raises his eyebrows in surprise, “We good?” Malcolm nods again, looking off to the side. “Okay.” he repeats, his brain still working to accept the new change. He turns back to JT, finally smiling at him. “We’re okay.”

Dani perks up from her spot on the table with a small smile on her lips. “He’s got a point, Bright. You don’t have to pretend around us. You’re one of us now and we don’t want you to feel like you don’t belong here.” She hesitates for a moment. “I’m sorry if we ever made you feel like that.”

“I understand,” he says moving closer her and JT. He fidgets with his hands some more, “What are friends for, right?” Dani can tell he’s unsure of himself. Even so, she knows his words are sincere and it warms her heart to see that he’s still trying. Her smile is genuine, “What are friends for.”

Malcolm heaves a sigh in effort to shake off his anxiety. His chest feels lighter and he feels like he can breathe again.

They didn’t reject him. He’s been anticipating their judgement, believing that he was too much work to deal with, too complicated for anyone to understand. He’s been lying this entire time when he didn’t need to.

They _accept_ him.

He doesn’t feel like a burden anymore.

That feeling alone erases his fears and insecurities about working here, being surrounded by people he didn’t fully know or understand just yet. He hasn’t experienced this in a while and he knows it won’t last for long; but for now, he relishes in it – the feeling of being happy.

It makes him rub his fingertips against his smooth palms, only switching to clasp and unclasp his hands. He’s content now, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Gil clears his throat from behind, drawing Malcolm’s attention. “Is there anything else you want to say?” he asks, voice soft and low. It’s an encouragement, Malcolm can tell by the smile he’s trying to hide.

Gil was probably just as nervous as he was. He knows how much this means to him to have people he could feel comfortable with. Friends were hard to come by, and ones who he could get that close to didn’t exist. Even though he’s not his father, Gil worries about him constantly, so this is a nice change of pace for him, Malcolm especially.

“No. I think I got everything. Though, I could go into specifics but I could go on for hours.” Dani snickers from her spot as JT sighs when he leans back in his chair. “Who’re you telling?” Malcolm puts his hands up in mock surrender, “Sorry, habit.” “Stop apologizing,” pipes Dani, “remember?”

He stops with his hands clasped together. “Right...”

He feels awkward standing there, and Gil can sense it too, so he offers an easy out. “Not to change the subject, but if you’re good Bright, I think we still have a case to solve.”

Malcolm nods eagerly, taking the hint and moves to sit back in his chair. He grabs his pen and moves it through his fingers. “Right, so uh,” he fiddles with his suit jacket, “where are we on the double homicide? Did we figure out who our primary suspect is?”

Gil drags one of the case files from the table to look through the crime scene photos. “We’ve got a few ideas but we were hoping you could help us narrow them down.” He hums, snagging the other file and turning to the decorated white board behind him.

He takes a moment to scan the file before putting it back down with his pen and getting up to stand by the board. “I think I have an idea of who we’re looking for.”

Gil leans on his arm against the wall with his hands stuffed in his pockets. “Okay, kid. What are we looking at?”

As if the last twenty minutes didn’t happen, Malcolm is back to rattling off a profile for their latest suspect like usual. The team is attentive, offering their opinions and suggestions until they have a solid list of people to they want to bring in for questioning.

Gil calls it a night shortly after. They pack for the night and stash the case files away for tomorrow. JT is the first to walk out, saying something about how Tally keeps blowing up his phone. “You know she’s going to kill you for not picking up, right?” Dani is on his left throwing her jacket on as they walk out of the conference room.

He shoots her a quick text before stuffing his phone back in his pocket. “She knows where I’m at, I don’t know why she keeps–” His phone starts to ring and he groans, turning back to the team. “I gotta go. Night, boss.” He pulls his phone out to answer it, heading out for the night.

Gil, Dani, and Malcolm collectively shrug. They walk out to the bullpen and stop by Gil’s office. “Let me grab my things. I’ll take you home, kid.” Malcolm nods and Gil disappears behind his door.

Dani waits with him. The precinct is practically empty except for a couple of officers doing paperwork at their cubicles. She sneaks a peek while he’s distracted with something and notices how still his hand is. It doesn’t have the touch of anxiety she’s used to seeing.

“Hey.” He turns around, eyebrows arched up. “Thank you for earlier. You know you didn’t have to tell us if it made you feel uncomfortable.” His expression softens into a small smile. “I made a promise to you. I’m going to do better, and I didn’t think it was fair to keep this from you guys. You would’ve found out sooner or later, I just didn’t want it to happen like this.”

He ducks his head out of habit. He knows Dani is more understanding than he gives her credit for; after everything with his father, she was patient and forgiving. She means so much to him and he doesn’t want to mess it up because he wasn’t honest.

“Don’t worry about it. You’re still New York’s favorite profiler.” She snickers and Malcolm joins in on her laughter. “Seriously though. You can still talk to me. I might not understand everything about you but I’ll always be here to listen. You aren’t alone in this.”

Malcolm stares at her with wide eyes. It takes a minute too long for it to sink in, and Malcolm softly goes, “Okay.”

She nods, quirking her lips into a sideways smile, feeling like she’s standing a bit too close in the spacious hallway. Thankfully, the door creaks and Dani steps back, clearing her throat.

Gil walks out with his coat in hand and turns to lock his door. “Ready?” Malcolm’s slow to respond, making Gil look between the two. Before he asks, Dani interrupts. “I’m gonna head out. See you guys tomorrow.” She pivots her heels to leave but Malcolm’s frantic “Wait!” stops her in her tracks.

She looks back, eyebrows arching. “Hm?” “Um,” he fumbles on his words, trying to figure out the right thing to say. “Thank you for that. I needed to hear it.” It makes him feel warm again, and he beams at her in a way that makes her speechless. “Goodnight, Dani.”

“Goodnight, Bright.” The rhyme makes them chuckle. He sighs as she leaves, wishing she could stay just a little bit longer. Gil doesn’t question it; whatever she said to him put a look on his face that Gil hasn’t seen in years. For that, he’s grateful.

He wrings his hands thinking back on the day now that he has some clarity. He’s got a family here. He can’t help but grin to himself, happy and content that he doesn’t have to shoulder his feelings on his own. They accept him, and it means the world to him how much they care.

“Come on, kid. It’s getting late.” He nods, shuffling his coat onto his small frame as Gil does the same with his.

Together, Malcolm and Gil walk out into the cold Manhattan night.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! I hope you guys liked it, I really enjoyed slaving over this for the last few days. My tumblr is @wonder-boy if you have any questions or comments for me. I plan to write more so hopefully I can stretch my writing a bit more. Again, thank you!


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